


Repairs

by Janekfan



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: ABOUT HOW THE MARTIN/JON TAG IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND?, Anxiety, CAN WE TALK, Delirium, EmmaAU, Fever, Here we go, Hurt/Comfort, I couldn't even find it this time, I gave up, M/M, Panic, Sickfic, Tim babysits, accidental compulsion, freaking harry potter is paired with martin before jon, i'm FINE, okay, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janekfan/pseuds/Janekfan
Summary: Jon loses track of his powers when he's not feeling well.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 182





	Repairs

“Thanks for coming, Tim.” 

“‘Course, Marto.” Tim looked past him to the man loosely curled up on the couch, propped up on several pillows and looking worse for wear. 

“I’m sure he’d be okay, I just--”

“I understand.” 

“You know how disoriented he can become with fevers and it’s been so high today.” 

“It’s alright.” 

“It’s your night off is what it is!” Martin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Shaking his head and chuffing a laugh, Tim gripped both his shoulders and squeezed. 

“Martin. I promise, it’s okay. We’ll watch bad telly and Jon will sleep and everything will be just fine.” Still conflicted, Martin knelt beside Jon and schooled his expression into a soft smile before pressing a kiss to his hot forehead. 

“Hey, love.” 

“Martin?” Breathless, Tim remembered Martin saying something about a bad chest cold. “Work, habibi?” He nodded, levering him up when one cough turned into two into three, four, and Jon waved away questioning, fussing hands. “M’alright, darling.” He clearly wasn’t convinced. “The sooner you leave for work, the sooner I’m rid of Tim.” 

“You know you love me.” Jon’s eye roll was near audible and it felt good to tease and be teased back. With all the hurt they’d dealt each other in the past, the rekindling of their friendship had been fraught with setbacks as their wounds healed into scars. 

They said their goodbyes, Martin giving instructions even as he was shoved out the door by Tim, who flipped the lock and joined Jon on the couch.

“Budge up.” Grumbling, Jon sat forward and let Tim take the place of all the pillows. “What docs have you been watching?” 

“You said they’re boring.” Despite the faux vitriol in his tone, Jon shoved Tim like a particularly lumpy body pillow until he was in the most comfortable position before attaching himself to his side. 

“Yeah, but the sooner you’re asleep, the sooner I can watch ATLA reruns.” 

“Tiiiim.” Jon whined, body language belying his irritation. 

“You love it.” Ruffling his hair, Tim offered him his mug of tea and another tablet, shutting down his whinging. “Gets worse at night. Don’t make me call Martin.” 

“You _wouldn’t_.” But he downed both quickly, exacting revenge by knocking the air out of Tim when he crashed back down. They fell into an effortless silence and, sure enough, Jon was out like a light barely half way through, snoring just the slightest bit and probably drooling all over him; easy to ignore now that he had his own kids. True to his word, Tim switched to something more interesting, trailing firm fingers up and down Jon’s side when he became restless just episodes in, noticing suddenly a pair of dull brown eyes, half lidded and glassed over with fever staring up at him in confusion. 

“Hey, bud.” Barely a whisper, trying to gauge where he was at and if he’d drift off again on his own. 

“T’Tim?” Filled with awe and damp with tears, Jon’s voice shook. “You, you’re _alive_.” 

Aw, hell. 

“That I am.” He tried to will the sleep back into him but Jon’s stubbornness wasn’t having it.

“B’but why. _Why_ are you h’ _here_?” And as soon as the last syllable slipped past his lips static rose in a tide to envelop them. As it crescendoed, Jon’s eyes went round as saucers, welling with the panic seizing up his limbs and causing him to tremble and shake. Tim let it wash over him, giving in without a fight at the same time Jon scrambled to mitigate the damage he was sure he’d done.

“Martin asked me to watch you.”

“I, I, I’m sorry, I--” A too-fast breath caught ragged in his chest and he doubled over, choking on frantic apologies and fear. This had happened before, back when things were still fraught between them. Fever and illness loosened Jon’s grip on the Beholding and Tim knew he hadn’t meant to compel him but he was already somewhere else, too far away for any reassurances to reach. 

“Easy, easy, I know. It’s alright.” With one arm Tim pulled him out of his contorted knot, reaching for Jon’s inhaler at the same time, shaking it hard and murmuring encouragement until he was able to draw a tight half lungful of air between chattering teeth. “Okay, I’ve got you, I’m not upset.” He splayed his fingers over Jon’s breastbone, running his thumb back and forth over his sweat damp shirt. “Deep breath and hold.” In a practiced tandem left over from so long ago Tim depressed the button and Jon inhaled and held until it exploded from his chest. “One more time.” And thank god it came easier because Tim did not want to call the station and explain to Jon’s husband how he sent him tailspinning into a panic attack. Later. But not now. For now, he listened to the push/pull of oxygen finally flooding into Jon’s system, felt the overwarm draught ghosting against his throat as he collapsed into him, lax and loose. “Good job, buddy.”

“Tim...are we…?” Jon shifted, sighed, hot forehead resting on his neck. 

“Shh, just relax. You’re not well, and in a minute we’re gonna do something about it, but for right now, just rest.” 

“Tim?” Martin was kicking off his boots and stripping himself of his uniform before he even made it to the sitting room. “How is he?” Immediately, he began fretting over him, waking him when he went to check his pulse, test his temperature. 

“Mmm.” Petulant, Jon turned his face into Tim’s jumper, fingers twisting up in the wool as he tried to escape Martin’s poking and prodding. “M’fine…” 

“He’s fine, Martin. Probably more than ready for bed.” Untangling him, he nudged Jon forward so Martin could gather him up, smiling when Jon wrapped spindly arms around his neck. “Had an ‘accident’ during a spike, but he probably won’t remember it.” Fond, Tim ran a hand over his head. 

“I can’t thank you enough. Can’t imagine where he would have wandered off to with me at work and Em away.” 

“Anytime, Marto. Now, put him to bed, he’s a damned limpet like this. You’ll never get anything done if he doesn’t sleep it off.” Tim let himself out, contemplating his copy of their key before locking the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted Tim and Jon fluff T^T


End file.
